The Eye of Saccab
by Aini NuFire
Summary: Angel Investigations is hired to retrieve a dangerous demon artifact that was stolen from its keeper. But of course the "simple case" ends up being anything but. Season 1 case!fic


**A/N: For jelena789, Damian, and AK215 who wanted another** ** _Angel_** **fic. It's not as angsty as my first, as I was feeling more general h/c and indulging the adorable feels of season 1 for this. Hope you like it.**

 **Disclaimer: Not mine. Thanks so much to 29Pieces for beta reading outside her normal fandom and for being a cheerleader when I almost chucked the whole thing.**

* * *

"The Eye of Saccab"

"Cordelia, did you just use a rare and ancient Kek knife to pry the coffeemaker's reservoir open?"

"The thingamajig was stuck."

There was the sound of strangled surprise. "Have you not heard of a screwdriver?"

"I've heard of them, Mr. Smarty-Pants. We don't have one."

Angel could just imagine the reproving look on Wesley's face.

"I'm sure Angel has one downstairs."

"Well, the knife was upstairs. And last I heard, Kek demons are extinct, so what else is that knife good for if not popping open busted compartments so you can all have your morning coffee?"

Angel pinched the bridge of his nose. Even if he had not possessed superior vampire hearing, he still would have been privy to the argument coming from the outer office in surround sound. It was a good thing he didn't get headaches. Most of the time he didn't even mind Wesley and Cordelia's bickering; somehow it cemented this little unit of theirs. Wes and Cordy were like children that Angel had somehow adopted, lost in a big bad world that had turned its back on them, and those two had bonded like orphans could. But there were times when the incessant squabbling really started to grate.

The sound of the front door opening put a stop to the rapid exchange of insults they'd devolved into, and Angel quickly stood to peek out of his office and see who it was. Hopefully a client. A paycheck was always a good way to make Cordelia happy.

A woman dressed in slim black pants and a red leather jacket with a high, stiff collar stood just inside the doorway. She had long black hair pulled back into a severely tight ponytail, and wore prominent eyeliner that accentuated her dark eyes.

Wesley was gaping open-mouthed—no surprise—while Cordelia was managing to appear simultaneously aloof, miffed, and eager for a client.

"Is this Angel Investigations?" the woman asked.

Wesley jolted out of his stupor. "Indeed it is," he answered eagerly, and practically hopped over to the desk to pull a chair out for their guest. "We help—"

"The helpless," Cordelia finished, mustering an air of professionalism to offset Wesley's ungainliness. "What can we do for you?"

The prospective client—who by no means looked "helpless"—eyed the two of them skeptically and didn't take the offered seat. "Can you help me stop a mystical bomb from turning Los Angeles into nothing more than a crater?"

That managed to leave the two humans speechless, and Angel finally stepped out of his darkened doorway. "What bomb?" he asked.

She snapped her gaze to him, apparently startled by his emergence. But she quickly schooled her features. "Are you Angel?"

He nodded. "What bomb?"

She studied him for another beat before answering. "The Eye of Saccab."

Wesley's eyes widened. "Oh."

"You've heard of it?" Angel asked him.

"Yes," he replied, intellectual fact-sharing overcoming his social awkwardness. "Saccab was a demon king of a hell dimension. The Eye is purported to be a very powerful artifact, though it hasn't been seen or heard of for centuries."

"We're not talking an actual eyeball, are we?" Cordelia interjected.

Wesley tossed her a long-suffering look. "No. It's a round stone."

"Hey, you never know with creepy demons," she huffed.

"And you think this Eye of Saccab is in Los Angeles?" Angel asked the woman before another round of bickering could start.

"I know it is."

"How?" Wesley asked incredulously. "Surely if such a potent artifact were here, it would have caused quite a stir among the demon community. At the very least, something of its magnitude would have resulted in minor earthquakes as the stored energy vibrated at such a frequency to disturb the fault lines."

Angel narrowed his eyes a fraction. They hadn't been having earthquakes, but that did not sound like a good thing to have around.

The woman's lips thinned. "It only recently came to LA."

Angel regarded her suspiciously. "And how is it you know about a demonic artifact that everyone else thought was lost?"

A muscle in her jaw ticked, and she looked away for a moment. "Not lost," she said quietly, turning back to face them. "Hidden. Protected. Until it was stolen."

Angel roved an appraising glance up and down her, taking in the stiff but poised posture and the slim figure that probably boasted some toned muscles underneath the leather. "You were protecting it?" he guessed.

She lifted a staunch chin. "It's been my family's task for generations, to guard the Eye in a special, secure location where its power remains dormant. My father—" She cut off and dropped her gaze to the floor for a brief moment. "My father died trying to stop the thieves…and to save me."

"Oh dear," Wesley breathed. "We're terribly sorry for your loss."

She gave a curt nod and looked back at Angel. "My father died with honor. But if I do not retrieve the Eye and return it, I will forever shame him and my family. I just…I cannot do it on my own, and you have a certain reputation as a…well, champion."

Angel nodded in understanding. "Who stole it?"

"A demon named Roshka. He lives in LA."

"Never heard of him," Angel said.

"He's able to blend among humans," she responded quickly. "Goes by another name: Harold Fales. I don't know if he intends to use the Eye, or sell it. His public persona is one of status and wealth, which means the Eye will be heavily guarded, including with wards." She flicked her gaze between the three of them. "So, will you help me?"

Angel considered it a beat longer, but finally nodded. "Cordelia, see what you can find on Harold Fales."

"On it," she said, whisking around behind the desk to type the man's name into the computer.

"Do you happen to know what kind of demon he is?" Wesley asked their guest. If they were going to be working together, though, they really should be asking her name.

She pursed her lips. "He is of the Marquoth clan."

"Hm, yes," Wesley mused. "A sorcerer breed. I'll have to research the typical wards they might use and the counter spells," he said, though it was clearly a question to Angel.

Angel nodded, and the ex-watcher headed downstairs to consult the books they had on hand. "I'm sorry," he said to the woman. "We didn't ask your name."

Her lips curved upward in a small smile. "Indira. And thank you."

"I don't like people bringing dangerous artifacts into my city," he replied. Not only were such items a threat by themselves, but so was the power struggle of various parties trying to get a hold of them.

"Well, what do you know," Cordelia piped up a moment later. "Take a wild guess at who Mr. Fales is represented by."

Angel's jaw tightened. "Wolfram & Hart." Well, that was a bonus; he did enjoy throwing wrenches into the evil law firm's dastardly plans.

"Mhm-hmm. He's also going to be at a benefit tonight…"

Indira straightened. "Then we have an opening to retrieve the Eye."

"When?" Wes said, coming back up from downstairs with an open book in his hands.

"Tonight," Angel replied. The sooner the better, as far as he was concerned.

Wesley sputtered. "Tonight? That's hardly enough time to plan."

"What's to plan?" Angel said. "We go in, get the Eye, and leave." He'd done this kind of thing plenty of times.

Wesley gaped at him. "Do we know where exactly the Eye is being kept? What additional security measures are in place?"

"Fales is a demon; he won't have advanced security," Angel replied. Demons were notoriously inept when it came to technology. Even Angel had a hard time using the computer, which was why he had Cordelia. "And I'll take care of any guards."

Wes shook his head, looking completely flustered as he turned to go back downstairs, muttering about doing as much research as he could before the sun went down. Angel figured that was plenty of time anyway.

Cordelia suddenly screeched, and he whirled toward her, worried she was having a vision, maybe about this very problem. But Cordelia had clapped her hands together and was jiggling like a battery-operated bobblehead.

"Lena Dunham is going to be there!" she squealed.

Angel blinked dubiously. "Who? Where?"

"At the benefit dinner! She's like, one of the top producers in Hollywood. I wonder how hard it'd be to get inside."

"Cordelia," Angel sighed. "Priorities?"

She put her hands on her hips. "What? I could keep Fales busy while you break into his place."

"He's a demon, Cordelia," he said in exasperation. "You shouldn't go anywhere near him." Not that she would. She was more apt to get distracted by the glittering lights and Hollywood stars.

"I think I can handle myself," Cordy retorted. "I did grow up on a hellmouth, remember."

Indira angled a skeptical look at Angel.

"Thanks, but we can handle it," he told Cordelia. She huffed, but went back to searching the computer for information that might need later.

Indira lowered her voice. "Your agency is…not quite what I expected."

Angel winced internally. Okay, so sometimes his people seemed immature and incompetent, but they really weren't.

"We'll get the Eye back, don't worry," he assured her. "My people know what they're doing."

Indira's brow furrowed doubtfully. "For the sake of everyone, I hope you're right."

* * *

Wesley wished he'd had more time to research Marquoth demons, how to disable magical wards, and the Eye of Saccab itself. Not that he didn't already have a vast repertoire of knowledge concerning all three of those subjects, but it never hurt to be thorough.

Angel was too gung-ho for that, however, and had insisted they infiltrate Mr. Fales's manor that night, since the man would be away at the fundraiser—for a local museum, interestingly enough. Mr. Fales probably used his patronage more as a shopping list than out of any respect for historical preservation.

Wesley eyed the manor that sat atop a hill. The property was surrounded by an eight-foot stone wall covered in ivy, and an equally tall, wrought-iron gate barred entrance through the driveway. It would have been easy for Angel to scale, but the vampire held back while Wesley checked for those magical wards Indira suspected Fales, or Roshka, would have in place.

The three of them stood on the side of the perimeter wall, away from street lights and the view from neighboring houses, which were spaced far enough apart to provide quite a deal of privacy.

Wesley stepped up to the wall and uttered a minor incantation to reveal what they were up against. A veil of opalescent light shimmered before him. "Oh."

"What?" Angel asked, sounding eager to get inside already.

Wesley reached up to adjust his glasses. "Some of these spells are quite complex." There was a layer for sounding a warning alarm, another to physically prevent certain beings from crossing it, and another that would deliver a mighty powerful shock to others who tried.

"You can disable them, right?" Angel said, less as a question and more as an assumption.

Wesley both beamed at the automatic confidence and quailed at the thought of not being able to live up to it. He squared his shoulders and turned back to the wards. Holding one hand up toward the magical wall, he focused on dissecting its individual threads in order to know which ones to pull to unravel them. It took several minutes, and he was feeling the time pressure well enough without Indira fidgeting and Angel watching closely.

Finally, though, Wesley tugged at the last cord, and the rest of the wards came down in a fizzling curtain. "There," he pronounced proudly.

Angel immediately leaped up and over the wall, black trench coat flapping in his wake. Wesley almost muttered a curse at the vampire's impatience, but Angel always did like to charge right in.

Indira was eyeing him thoughtfully. "I'm impressed," she said.

Wesley straightened further, breaking into a pleased grin. It wasn't often someone expressed appreciation for his work. "The wards weren't that complex after all," he replied. "Ah, we should…" Wesley gestured for them to head around to the front gate.

Just as they turned the corner, there was a small click and the gate began gliding open. Angel stood by the guard booth, waiting. Wesley spotted two security officers stuffed into the small booth in a slumped pile.

"Did you kill them?" Indira asked.

"No, they're just unconscious," Angel replied.

Her mouth pressed into a thin line. "It isn't wise to leave your enemy a chance to get up and fight again."

"Hired guns aren't my enemy," Angel said. "And I didn't agree to help you with a vendetta. You want to go after Roshka for killing your father, that's your decision. I want to make sure he can't use the Eye to destroy my city."

Indira's eyes flickered with steel, and she looked ready to say something in return, but Wesley jumped in.

"Perhaps we could have this philosophical discussion later?" he hissed.

Without another word, Angel turned toward the house and started up the drive. Wesley hurried to keep up, and Indira followed as well. They found a back door, and Wesley uttered the ward revealing incantation again, but there was nothing magical wrapped around the house itself. Angel gripped the door handle and wrenched it, breaking the locking mechanism inside. He pushed the door open, stepping back so Wesley and Indira could enter first.

"Oh, I invite you in," Wesley said over his shoulder, and Angel then stepped over the threshold as well.

Now came the challenge of finding the Eye somewhere in this mansion. Again, not the best planning.

"This way," Angel said, turning right down the hallway.

Wesley quirked a brow at him. "How can you be sure?"

"Because if I had a rare and dangerous artifact in my possession, I'd keep it in the most central location."

Well, that hardly sounded like enough to go on, but Wesley followed nonetheless. They had to start somewhere, after all.

Angel navigated his way through a few corridors, glancing in rooms as he passed, until he found a study full of numerous artifacts. Wesley even recognized a Kek knife in a display case. And on a mantle behind a large oak desk was a wine dark orb the size of a paperweight sitting in a glass box. Wesley immediately went toward it, as did Indira.

"That it?" Angel asked behind them.

"Yes," Indira replied.

Wesley leaned closer to examine the case for trip wires or additional warding. There didn't appear to be any, just a light coating of dust. Wesley adjusted his glasses and squinted as he studied the orb. "Hm, it doesn't look quite how I expected…"

"We need to hurry," Indira hissed, and reached out to lift the glass case. They all froze when an alarm blared as a result.

Wesley shot her an accusing glower, while Indira glared at Angel.

"You said demons wouldn't have state of the art technology!"

"And I told you we should have come more prepared," Wesley added.

Angel gave them both sharp looks. "Just grab it and let's go."

Wesley snatched the sphere off the display plate, and realized he was essentially holding a bomb. Another aspect of poor planning on their part, as they should have thought of bringing a secure case to carry the blasted thing in.

They hurried out into the hall, only to pull up short as a shout rang out from down the corridor, and a group of guards came running toward them, their faces morphing into red skin and ridged foreheads.

"And that would be the angry demons," Wesley muttered. Yes, definitely the worst plan ever.

Angel shoved him the opposite direction. "Go!"

They fled down the hallway, eventually barreling into an adjoining chamber full of bookcases and other artifact displays. And there was another contingent of guards streaming in through what was supposed to be their exit.

Angel lunged forward immediately to meet the first two head-on. Wesley backed up and frantically whipped his gaze around in search of something he could use as a weapon. Indira was like Angel, and simply leaped in to exchange punches and kicks with the demon guards.

Wesley spotted a saber mounted in an iron fixture on the wall, but when he tried to pull the blade out, it was stuck. Because weaponry as decoration was so much more practical. He heard a snarl behind him and ducked just as a fist swung over his head. Wesley scrambled backward, ending up in the corner as a red-skinned demon loomed over him. He fumbled to reach the pistol strapped to his ankle without dropping the Eye, but before he could reach it, Indira swooped in and delivered a roundhouse kick that sent the demon crashing into a bookshelf. Several heavy volumes were knocked loose and cascaded down over his head, successfully knocking him out.

Angel threw one of his opponents through the air to crash into more guards that were pouring into the room. "Go!" he shouted.

Wesley didn't particularly want to leave Angel to fight this many demons alone, but he knew they had to get the Eye to safety. He stuffed the orb in his pocket as Indira reached for his arm to haul him up. They made a mad dash down the hallway that was now clear, the sounds of fighting fading behind them, and managed to make it outside without running into more demons.

Wesley scrambled into Angel's convertible without opening the door, and almost smashed his nose on the steering wheel for it. Indira slid over the passenger end much more smoothly. Wesley cranked the key in the ignition and then gunned the vehicle onto the road, the manor receding in the rearview mirror.

Indira glanced over her shoulder. "Do you think he'll be alright?"

"Angel? Oh, he'll be fine," Wesley said. "He's quite capable."

Yes, he'd be fine.

Indira kept looking behind her as though waiting for Angel to catch up or suddenly drop into the backseat. In truth, Wesley was kind of hoping for the same, but it didn't happen.

When they arrived back at the office, the lights were off in front. Cordelia must have locked up, though she usually waited for them to get back from a case. She was probably downstairs in Angel's flat.

Wesley exited the car, Indira right behind him.

"Thank you for your help with this," she said. "I'll take the Eye now."

"We can help you find something to safely transport it in," Wesley replied, heading for the side door. "And, actually, there are a few things I'd like to look up first."

Indira followed on his heels. "It's my responsibility."

"And it's perfectly safe here," Wesley assured her. "Besides, you weren't thinking of leaving before Angel returned, were you?"

Her jaw visibly tightened, but she didn't say anything more as she followed him downstairs to Angel's flat. Wesley had to flip on the lights, and frowned when there was no sign of Cordelia. Where could she have gotten to?

He was distracted from giving it much thought, however, as something had been bothering him about the Eye. Wesley took the orb out of his pocket and studied it. The stone was almost too opaque to be what one would consider an "Eye" containing vast amounts of mystical energy. And now that it was in better lighting, he noticed faint bronze runes etched across the surface of the sphere. Hm, those shouldn't be there…

Wesley went to the bookcase and pulled out the book he'd consulted earlier when Indira had first come to them about the Eye. "Oh dear," he murmured. "This isn't the Eye of Saccab at all."

"What do you mean?" Indira asked stiffly.

"The features aren't exactly right, though similar enough it's an easy mistake to make." He set that book down and scanned the spines for another one, which he quickly pulled out and braced against the inside of his elbow to flip through one-handed.

"Aha!" he exclaimed. "This would be the Orb of Methusala. The good news is that it is not a magical bomb, just a way to open a portal into its home hell dimension." Wesley sighed. "Unfortunately, that means the real Eye is still out there…" He jolted as he looked up to find Indira standing directly in front of him, expression like granite.

"Give it to me," she said.

Wesley frowned. "What…" He trailed off as realization slowly dawned, and closed the book. "The Eye of Saccab was never in Roshka's possession, was it?"

Indira's lips curved upward in a smirk. "I do love champions for good. They're so easy to manipulate with dire claims about the end of the world."

Wesley stiffened, and held the orb closer to his body.

"You're smarter than I gave you credit for, though," Indira continued. "I didn't think you'd catch the difference."

"Yes, well, you did come looking for the best," he replied glibly, though it was a front and his heart was beginning to hammer in his chest. He tried to calculate how quickly he could reach one of the weapons Angel had lying around his flat, but before he could lunge for something, Indira shot a hand up toward his face, and a scorpion-like tail erupted from under a fold of skin in her wrist.

The stinger jabbed into the side of Wesley's neck, stealing his breath as fiery liquid squirted into his bloodstream. His mouth fell open in shock, choking on a gasp. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was able to classify the half-demon as a Ska'la, though the academic awareness did him little good at the moment.

Wesley sputtered and gurgled until she retracted the stinger, and then she caught the orb from his grasp as he fell to the floor with a thud. His vision blurred, and he tried to move, to call for help, but everything was swimming in burning fire as Indira's figure receded into blackness and disappeared.

* * *

Cordelia huffed as she marched back to her car, three-inch heels clacking across the asphalt. She couldn't believe that benefit dinner was invitation only. Who turned away prospective donors? And okay, so she wasn't actually a rich debutante who was going to write a check for a couple thousand dollars, but she at least _looked_ like one! She'd even worn her best little black dress. Those snobs.

She could just hear Wesley's smug chastisement, too, but Cordelia had only gone to the party to keep an eye on Mr. Fales. If she _happened_ to run into a Hollywood producer who wanted to talk potential upcoming roles…well, then that would have just been karma paying her back for helping all those helpless people.

She pulled her keys out of her clutch, but before she could unlock her car, a spear of lightning shot through her head. Cordelia cried out and smacked a palm up to press against her eye, which felt as though it was going to pop out under the pressure currently flashing a skull-splitting image through her brain. It was blindingly bright and jerky, but she saw Indira, and a shiny orb, something that looked like a red fissure forming right in front of her, and then a spindly, pointed leg poking through the portal.

The vision finally cut off, and Cordelia collapsed against the side of her car, barely able to hold herself up. She let out a strangled groan as her head continued to throb mercilessly. These visions _sucked_.

"And you couldn't have given us a heads-up sooner?" she shouted at the sky, heedless of the looks people threw her. Cordelia couldn't care less at the moment. She was royally pissed, because it seemed pretty clear that little miss guardian or whatever was not on the up and up after all. Cordelia didn't know exactly what her vision meant, but obviously the Powers That Be never sent her happy positive announcements.

She fumbled in her purse for her phone, hands shaking. Her fingers knocked against the bottle of pain killers, but she'd have to take those in a second. First she needed to call Angel. Except his phone was off and went straight to voicemail. She tried Wesley next. No answer. She popped open the pill bottle and knocked back two capsules, swallowing them dry. Then she frantically climbed into her car and sped back toward the office.

Angel's car was parked out front, which was a good sign. But then why wasn't anyone answering their stupid phone? Cordelia strode for the side door and took the stairwell down to Angel's apartment in the basement. The lights were on, but the place looked empty. Where the hell was everyone?

"Angel?" she called. "Wesley?"

She started to move past the den toward the bedroom in the back, and froze when she spotted a body sprawled on the floor by the bookshelves. "Oh my god, Wesley!"

Cordelia rushed over and dropped down beside him. His pallor was ghostly white and his hair damp from sweat. He was trembling uncontrollably as though in the throes of fever, but that didn't make sense; Wes was completely fine earlier. Then Cordelia caught sight of a hideous looking puncture mark on the side of his neck, large and swollen and purple.

She whipped her head up and around, searching for Angel lying unconscious somewhere, but didn't see him. Where was he, then? And Indira?

"Wesley," Cordelia called urgently. "Can you hear me?"

His eyelids fluttered. "C-Cor-delia," he stammered, voice shaky.

"Did Indira do this?"

He tried to nod, but it was jerky with the minute tremors running through him. "L-lied."

Yeah, Cordelia had figured that much. "Where's Angel?" If Indira had hurt him too, Cordelia swore she would stake that bitch, vampire or not.

Wesley spluttered in an attempt to answer, but before he could, the sound of grating iron had Cordelia whirling around and yanking off one shoe to hold the pointed heel up as a weapon. A dark figure moved up from the sewer access point, and it took Cordelia's adrenaline-addled brain a moment to realize it was Angel. He pulled up short at the sight of her, brows raised at the high heel she was wielding threateningly. Then his gaze shifted down and to the side, and his eyes widened.

"What happened?" he demanded, moving to their side in an instant.

"Miss 'I need help' isn't so helpless," Cordelia huffed.

"A-Angel," Wesley stuttered, fighting to drag his eyelids open. "Eye- not. It-it opens- por-tal. Hell-"

"It opens a portal to a hell dimension?" Angel translated.

Wesley nodded shakily.

Cordelia scowled. Of course it did. "That explains the vision I had of her. Pretty sure I saw her using the orb thingy in Elysian Park."

"Have- have to- stop her," Wesley rasped, his face scrunching up in pain.

"We're getting you to a hospital first," Angel said.

Wesley shook his head and shuddered more violently. "Venom. Ska'la d-demon."

Angel froze, and Cordelia shot him a worried look.

"What does that mean? What do we do?"

Angel met her gaze with equal fear. "It means we need an antidote."

"Okay, where do we get that?" She'd run to whatever magic shop she needed to.

Angel's mouth pressed into a tight line. "I know how to make some, but we'll need a sample from the venom sacs."

"From Indira," Cordelia said, filling in the blank.

Angel nodded, and he looked down at Wesley again. "There's not enough time. Maybe…maybe I can try to suck it out…"

"Okay, yes!" Cordelia exclaimed. "Do that."

Angel threw her a pinched look, and she bit back her enthusiasm. Oh, right, maybe not the best plan, having a vampire suck out poison from someone's neck.

"But, you can do it, right?" she asked hopefully. "Without going all bloodthirsty?"

A muscle in Angel's jaw ticked, and his throat bobbed as though already dying for a taste of human blood. Cordelia's stomach churned. But what other option did they have?

"It-it's alright, Angel," Wesley whispered, waving one hand weakly to grasp Angel's sleeve. "I trust you."

Cordelia threw their boss a pleading look. If he didn't try, Wesley was going to die.

Angel's eyes wavered with emotion, but he gave a slow, measured nod, and slid one arm underneath Wesley's shoulders to pull the watcher into his arms. "I won't hurt you," Angel promised.

Wesley's eyes were wide and fever-glazed, but didn't hold any fear. Angel lowered his mouth to Wesley's neck, and Cordelia held her breath. Angel didn't sink his teeth in, only covered the puncture wound and began to suck.

Wesley jerked slightly, but otherwise didn't make a sound. Cordelia reached out to take his limp hand. After a few seconds, Angel wrenched his mouth away and spat out a glob of pinkish fluid mixed with something clear and treacly. Then he lowered his head again to draw out more of the venom. He repeated the process a third time when what he spat out was less translucent, but still a high concentration of poison.

But Angel was holding on longer this time. Wesley's eyelids fluttered closed, and Cordelia's heart stuttered with fear.

"Uh, Angel?" she called nervously.

He didn't stop, and his shoulders were practically vibrating as he seemed to be at war against his vampire instincts.

"Angel," Cordelia pressed. "Angel!"

He ripped himself away with a gasp, blood coating his lips and trickling down the side of his chin. Angel shot his free arm up to cover his mouth, expression mortified. But at least he hadn't gone all scary vampy face.

Cordelia quickly pressed two fingers against the inside of Wesley's wrist. His pulse was slow, but there. "Did you get it all?" she asked. "He's gonna be okay now, right?"

Angel didn't respond right away, but gave a sharp shake to compose himself. Then he lifted Wes off the floor and carried him into the back bedroom.

"Angel!" Cordelia snapped, scrambling off the floor to follow.

"I don't know," he said as he gently laid Wes down on top of the coverlet. "Some of it was already in his bloodstream, and I don't know if even a little bit is fatal."

"Then what do we do?"

Angel turned back to face her, the calm of steely resolve hardening his eyes. "Watch over him."

"Where are you going?" she asked as Angel strode to the weapons cabinet.

"To stop Indira from opening a portal into a hell dimension," he replied, pulling out an athame dagger. "And to get that antidote."

Cordelia blinked. "Oh, okay. Then go slay the bitch." She would have liked to get in a few hits herself, but someone had to stay with Wesley.

Angel gave a sharp nod, and Cordelia watched him sweep up the stairs like a storm just waiting to be unleashed. Indira had no idea who she'd messed with.

* * *

Angel broke every speed limit there was as he rode the gas pedal hard all the way to Elysian Park. He'd bought Wesley some time by sucking most of the venom out, but there was no telling how much had gotten into his system before Angel had arrived. He was furious with himself for being duped by Indira's story, and for leaving Wes alone with her.

But more than that, Angel was disgusted with how close he'd come to losing control. The taste of hot, fresh blood pouring into his mouth, the sound of a beating heart growing fainter…it had filled him with a heady rush and visceral craving for more. And for a split second, Angel had forgotten himself, forgotten that it was _Wesley_ he was drinking from—and slowly killing.

Angel wrenched himself away from the memory. Self-loathing wouldn't serve him right now, and so he turned the fury and rage outward, toward the one that had caused all this.

Cordelia's vision hadn't been very specific about where exactly in Elysian Park Indira was going to try opening that portal, so Angel parked in the first lot he came across and switched to tracking her down on foot. He could smell the power growing on the air, an acrid, almost sulfuric tang, and hoped he wasn't too late.

He made his way through a copse of trees and into a clearing where he found Indira standing on a small hillock, the numerous city lights of Los Angeles glowing in the backdrop. She held the dark orb in one hand, runes smoldering across its surface, and her voice resonated with a deep timbre, spilling forth the Latin words to activate the portal. Angel's skin began to prickle as he drew closer.

Indira paused in her recitation to crane a look over her shoulder. "Well, look at you. Escaped Roshka's goons and tracked me down. I underestimated you and your team."

"You used us." Angel shifted his center of balance slightly, hand poised to draw the athame from the back of his waistband. "You're not even human."

Her lip curled up in a sneer. "You're one to talk," she spat.

"You attacked my friend. Demon or human, no one gets away with that," Angel replied, voice level with deadly intent.

Indira let out a disgusted sound. "How can you _defend_ these vermin? Proclaim yourself their champion? You should be fighting to protect the demon races who are persecuted. Not these worms!"

Angel blinked. Wait, what? He hesitated. "Are you talking about The Scourge?" he asked, remembering the militaristic group of pure-blood demons hellbent on eradicating any who were of mixed blood. "Because I have fought against them. My friend _died_ saving a bunch of peaceful demons from them."

Indira rolled her eyes. "You fought them once? Good on you. What about the others? What about the everyday persecution and bigotry I had to face growing up. From fellow demons _and_ humans." She took a seething step forward. "Where were you when _my_ father was being killed?"

Angel frowned. "I'm sorry life hasn't been easy on you. It rarely is for anyone." Angel had his own dark baggage. He had only recently gleaned a glimpse of Wesley's traumatized past. And even Cordelia, as shallow as she could be sometimes, usually used it as a front, a shield to hide behind.

"But if you hate pure-blooded demons so much," Angel went on, "why are you trying to open a portal into one of their dimensions?"

Indira shook her head. "Not just any dimension. The one my bloodline is from. My distant kin are fierce, savage. When they overrun this world, they'll show those filthy pure-bloods who's really at the top of the food chain."

Angel stared at her in disbelief. She couldn't actually think that would turn out well for her?

"What makes you think those pure-bloods won't turn on you also?"

"I _am_ their blood!" she shrieked. Thrusting her hand holding the orb high in the air, she shouted another string of Latin words before Angel could react.

The air behind her wobbled and began to glow, then separated. Through the portal, Angel could see a sprawling desert vista crawling with giant half-scorpion, half-humanoid creatures. They lifted their heads toward the fissure between worlds, and started scurrying toward it.

Angel surged forward. Indira spun around and ducked under his swing. She punched him hard in the lower back, and Angel almost stumbled right into the portal, but he caught himself at the last second. Whirling just in time, he threw an arm up to block the next blow. Then he delivered a sucker punch to Indira's jaw, snapping her head back. But she didn't go down.

Instead, she hooked her leg behind his and tried to kick his feet out from under him. Angel briefly lost his balance, but he twisted mid-air to catch his palms on the ground, and then he was flipping himself back onto his feet.

Indira's face split into a wide grin then, and Angel spun around just as a roaring bellow echoed from behind. A nine-foot-tall scorpion man came skittering through the portal. His head, torso, and arms were humanoid, but he had pinchers instead of hands, and the abdomen segment of a scorpion.

The demon's nostrils flared, and it charged at Angel, who dove out of the way and rolled across the ground to avoid getting trampled by one of the eight pointed legs. Angel scrambled to his feet and whipped out the dagger, though now he was wishing he'd brought a sword. The large demon sniffed almost haughtily, and swung a clubbed pincher that knocked the athame from Angel's hand. Great, how the heck was he supposed to kill it? What he needed to do was somehow get it back in its own dimension.

Angel threw a look over his shoulder at the portal. No other giant scorpions had come through yet, though he could see them amassing in the distance. He turned back to his opponent and surged forward, darting under a clawed arm and launching off the ground to punch the demon across his jaw. The punch didn't exactly knock the brute off his many legs, but it got an enraged snarl in response.

Angel dodged out of the way as the tail lashed forward to stab him. The stinger jabbed the ground instead, knocking loose a chink of soil and grass when it retracted. Angel made a dash toward the portal, skidding to a stop in front of it and pivoting to face the scorpion, which had given in to the urge to chase him. Angel held his ground until the last possible second, and then dove under the beast's legs. The scorpion tried to stop, but ended up barreling through the portal and back into the hell dimension where it collided with a pile of boulders.

Angel whirled to find Indira and get the opening closed, but stopped short when he discovered the small field was surrounded by the red-skinned Marquoth demons from Roshka's manor. One of them had Indira by the throat, her legs dangling two feet from the ground as she futilely fought against his grip. Another one in a much finer suit than the others was holding the orb.

Angel shifted his weight nervously. With enemies at his front and back, he didn't know what to do. But then the lead demon—Angel was going to assume it was Roshka—lifted the orb and uttered a guttural sounding phrase. The air crackled, and Angel flicked a look behind him as the portal shimmered and collapsed in on itself. The static fizzled out, and the park was still and silent once more.

Angel stood stiffly, still horribly outnumbered. Roshka was eyeing him intensely, but no one was making a move so far, and Angel didn't want to be the first. Maybe they could avoid bloodshed.

Roshka turned his head to his lackey holding Indira, and gave a measured nod. With one jerk of the wrist, the other demon snapped Indira's neck. She fell limp in his grip, still dangling in the air. Angel winced slightly. He wasn't exactly going to mourn her death, but he wasn't a fan of the kind of brutality most demons ascribed to.

Roshka angled his attention back to Angel, still not speaking.

Angel cleared his throat awkwardly. "I made a mistake earlier," he said. "I apologize."

Roshka's eyes narrowed a fraction. "A mistake? Is that what you call nearly opening a portal to a hell dimension that would have destroyed this city?"

Angel bristled somewhat, even though the accusation wasn't totally uncalled for. "Thankfully, that didn't happen. And you got your orb back."

Roshka's piercing gaze never wavered. "I've heard of you, Angel. You meddle. Best be careful you don't end up like this one." He nodded toward Indira's corpse. "Dispose of the body," he instructed his thug.

"Wait." Angel took a step forward, but then stopped himself. "Indira poisoned one of my people. I need the venom sacs to make an antidote."

Roshka silently considered him once more, and Angel didn't know what he was going to do if the demon told him to shove off. Try to fight them all, if he had to.

But Roshka simply turned and strode over to Indira, who was still dangling from the other demon's grip. Roshka pulled out a knife and slit Indira's forearm from wrist to elbow, then worked out a bulge of a pellucid sac. He tossed it to Angel, who lunged forward to catch it. Then without another word, the Marquoth demons turned and walked away.

Angel glanced at the diaphanous organ in his hands, and then hurried back to his car in order to get back to the office, hoping he wasn't too late.

He found Wes and Cordy where he'd left them, though Cordelia had taken the time to bandage Wesley's neck. She was currently sitting in a chair by the bed and mopping his feverish brow. So he was still alive, good. And, fortunately, when it came to demon poison, remedies could be made much more quickly than what it would take for normal scorpion venom.

Cordelia jumped to her feet at Angel's return. "Did you stop her?"

"Yes," Angel replied, forgoing a full recap and going straight to a supply cabinet where he pulled out a mortar and pestle, some herbs, and a few other spell ingredients he'd use to make the anti-venom. He'd learned how to do it a few decades ago when he'd tangled with a rather nasty demon whose poison had been very toxic, even to a vampire. And even though Indira's venom was different, the spell worked with all kinds.

Angel threw all the ingredients together, cut a slit in the venom sac, and squeezed out the clear, viscous liquid.

"Ew," Cordelia said as she watched.

Angel took a fistful of the last ingredient, recited a few key words in Latin, and tossed it in. The bowl sparked and belched out a stream of smoke, but the contents inside shimmered before congealing into a dark green potion. Angel picked it up and went over to the bed.

"Again, I say ew," Cordelia repeated.

Angel ignored her commentary, and took the seat she'd occupied earlier. He gently lifted Wesley's head, then placed the rim of the bowl to his lips. As the liquid first spilled into his mouth, Wes's face scrunched up, and he tried to jerk away. Angel maintained a firm hold.

"Come on, Wes. You need to drink this. Trust me."

The ex-watcher was barely lucid, eyes glassy from fever as they blinked dazedly at Angel, but Wesley nevertheless opened his mouth obediently and began to gulp the potion down. Angel didn't let up until it was all gone and Wes was coughing on the last bitter draught.

"That's gonna work, right?" Cordelia asked worriedly.

Angel laid Wes's head back on the pillow. "It'll work," he affirmed. His gaze drifted to the bandages, grateful that Cordelia had done them, but he could still smell a whiff of blood.

Angel stood abruptly and stepped away, letting Cordelia have the seat back. He went back to the table to clean it up.

"Angel," Cordelia said softly. "You saved his life."

He stiffened for a split second, knowing what she was referring to. For all of her childish and superficial behavior, there was a profound woman underneath that exterior.

Angel let go of his self-loathing. He had done what he'd needed to, and even though he'd almost lost control, Cordelia had been there to pull him back from the brink. She'd had faith he could do it, and so had Wesley. Angel's strength wasn't in himself, but in his family and how they anchored him. They were all each other's strength.

He grabbed another chair and dragged it over to the other side of the bed, settling in to watch over his adopted family. Cordelia quickly fell asleep, head pillowed on her arms on top of the mattress. The visions always took a lot out of her, and she'd been running on adrenaline and fear after this last one. Wesley usually made her a cup of tea with some tincture or other that helped soothe her headaches. Angel had never taken note of what exactly, because he'd never assumed Wes wouldn't be able to do that for her. He'd have to pay more attention next time. It didn't escape Angel's notice how Wes and Cordy could fill in various roles when Angel wasn't around; he needed to learn to do the same for them.

It took a few hours, but Wes's fever finally abated and he shifted on the bed. Angel waited patiently as his eyelids fluttered, struggling to claw his way to full consciousness.

Wesley lolled his head to the side and gave a small smile. "Angel. Did we win?"

"Yeah, we did."

Wes's mouth quirked further, and he turned the other way and spotted Cordelia, his expression softening with fondness. "Angel, you should have put her to bed."

"Well, you're kind of taking up the only one I got," he responded. "Though, I guess you could share."

"Don't even think about it," Cordelia said, voice muffled in her arm before she lifted her head sleepily. "I am not sharing a bed with Wesley." Despite her miffed tone, her gaze was concerned as she looked at him. "Don't do that again, mister."

Wes frowned. "Which part?"

She lightly smacked his arm. "The almost dying part."

Wesley winced, though it might have been for show. "Ah, yes. I will try not to do that again." He glanced at Angel, eyes still tired but full of nothing but gratitude.

Angel couldn't help but smile back. "I'll make you two something to eat."

He got up and headed to the little kitchen, pausing to roll his eyes as Cordelia baited Wesley into bickering again. But at least it meant he was feeling better, and the sound of their voices was music to Angel's ears.


End file.
